About a Boy
by LilyIsAwesomerThanYou
Summary: This is the story of a boy who was expected to save the world and his life after he was adopted by none other than Severus Snape, feared Bat of the Dungeons. Sequel to "Glimpses" - Harry adapts to school and his new father. NO SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**Good morning (sort of)!**

**This is the sequel to Glimpses, which I do recommend you read before this one. However, read on, I guess, if that's just how you roll. ;)**

**Expect longer-spaced updates until summer. Finals are upon me and I don't have much free time. **

**So, e****njoy!**

**Wait. Also, I don't own Harry Potter.**

**And one more thing, I normally don't go back in time in my stories. I did it once in Glimpses because I felt it was necessary/important to story. However, as you know, Glimpses ended with Harry's train ride and sorting. I do want to go back and recount what led up to that, and perhaps a more in-depth account of what happened. So, this is going to begin before Glimpses ended. Whoa. Mind blown.**

**And on THAT note, enjoy! :)**

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About a Boy – Chapter 1

_Aunt Petunia's shrieks echoed through ten-year-old Harry Potter's bedroom door. The sharp rapping of her bony fingers against the wood grew steadily louder as Harry pushed the blanket off his thin body and peered hazily around the room in search of his glasses. He pushed past the disappointment of waking up once again in his relatives' home and slipped his glasses up over the bridge of his nose._

_ But as he was crawling toward the door of his cupboard, his aunt's shrieks were beginning to sound more and more like squawks and the rapping on his door was growing steadily louder and more annoying._

Harry jumped out of his bed, breathing heavily as he recovered from the dream. It wasn't anything new – how many times did he constantly dream that Snape had sent him back? That he was unwanted once again?

The sharp rapping caught his attention again, and he looked around in interest as he found the source: a tawny owl laden with a thick envelope was tapping against the glass of his window with its beak.

Harry ran over and opened the window, eagerly unfastening the letter from the owl's foot as he ran his fingers absently through the feathers of the bird. He tore open the envelope, his excitement mounting as he recognized the Hogwarts emblem on the wax seal.

The envelope contained two pieces of thick parchment: one congratulating him on his acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and one listing the supplies he would need for the coming school year.

"Dad!"

Clutching the letter firmly in his thin hand, Harry dashed from his bedroom and through the kitchen. He skidded to a halt in the dining room, holding up the slightly crumpled pieces of parchment toward a politely intrigued Severus Snape.

"Harry?" Snape questioned in a low voice, raising one eyebrow in inquiry as he lowered his copy of the Daily Prophet.

"Dad, look!" Harry thrust the papers across the table toward the man. "I got my Hogwarts letter!"

Snape's lips curled up into a genuine smile as he reached over to scan the letter. "Congratulations, Harry. We will have to organize a trip down to Diagon Alley in order to pick up your supplies." There was a slight pause before the man added, "Would you like breakfast?"

The boy slid into a seat. "Yes, please."

As the steaming eggs and sausage appeared on a plate in front of him, Harry began firing off questions, barely pausing long enough to receive answers from a highly amused Potions Master.

oOoOo

"Harry, calm down," Snape murmured, smirking as the boy led him by the hand through the Leaky Cauldron and into Diagon Alley. He pulled out his wand and tapped the bricks crisply, standing back to let the wall rearrange itself into a doorway. Harry stopped jumping momentarily to watch.

However, by the time there was a fully-formed archway leading into Diagon Alley, Harry was once again tugging impatiently on his hand and leading him toward the first store he saw: Flourish and Blotts.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape suddenly snapped, and Harry stiffened and stopped walking. He turned slowly to see the stern glare on Snape's face and his face fell as he realized the man was not joking. "For Merlin's sake, would you please get yourself together? This is school business."

Lucius' smooth voice came from the bookstore. "Oh, Severus. I didn't quite see you there. Don't revert to formalities just because I'm here."

Harry turned and looked closely at the blond man. He opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it again.

Snape sighed. "Harry, this is Mr. Lucius Malfoy. I believe you remember him from our previous trip to Diagon Alley?"

Harry nodded silently, before muttering, "Good afternoon, Mr. Malfoy."

"Ah, good afternoon to you as well, Harry. I have someone I'd like you to meet." Lucius smiled broadly, showing off a perfect set of teeth. He pulled a blond boy from behind him. "This is Draco. He'll be starting Hogwarts with you this year."

"Hi," Harry greeted shyly, toeing the cobblestone below him feet with his trainers. "I'm Harry."

Draco gaped. "You're – Merlin's beard – Harry Potter. I'm talking to Harry Potter." Lucius lightly slapped him on the back of the head, slightly mussing his perfectly plastered platinum hair. Draco regained composure quickly. "I mean – hello, I'm Draco Malfoy. Pleasure to meet you." He extended a pale hand. Harry shook it. They smiled shyly at each other.

"Very well. Lucius, this was a pleasure, but I really must be off to buy Mr. Potter's school supplies. Harry, come along," Snape interrupted, walking through the door of the bookstore. Harry looked up and began to follow, looking back with a regretful smile.

"Uncle Severus!" Draco protested, but Lucius' pleasant voice overcame his son's.

"I believe we can linger around the store a bit longer. Besides, I'm sure Draco would enjoy the company?" He looked down at his son for confirmation; Draco nodded enthusiastically.

Snape hesitated before sighing in exasperation. "I suppose it's alright."

Draco bounded over to Harry excitedly and began chattering away. They slowly walked through the store as Snape and Lucius strode ahead to gather the required books. "What house are you going to be in? What broom do you have? Can you believe they won't let first years have them? What position do you suppose you'll be when you make the team? Will you try to make the team? What's your favorite subject? Do you like Potions? I do, but Father won't let me brew any because he says they're too _dangerous_. Does Uncle Severus let you brew? I bet he does, because he's a Potions Master and can keep you from blowing stuff up. You're so lucky."

Harry stopped in his tracks, surprised by the bombardment of questions. He wasn't prepared to answer any of them. Houses? Well, of course he knew what they were – Snape had seen to that – but he didn't have a particular preference for any of them. And brooms? Quidditch? What the hell was that? Subjects? What was even taught in a magic school? Potions. Ah, potions. _That _he could talk about.

"Yeah, Dad lets me brew them all the time. As long as he's there with me, of course. I blew one up once – no, I've blown up two – oh, I don't remember," Harry babbled, smiling at the memories. Well, most of them. Draco smiled but looked intensely jealous.

"Mr. Potter! For Merlin's sake, pick up the pace and bring me your class list!" came Snape's deep voice. Harry hurried over, pulling the creased parchment from his pocket and handing it to his father. "_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk, _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot,_ Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling, _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch, _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore, _Magical Draughts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander, and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble. I only wish that fool wasn't teaching this year. Harry," he began again, raising his voice slightly from its lowered mumbling, "take Draco with you and find all of your books, excluding your potions text. I myself will provide that one. Off with you."

Harry and Draco scampered off, climbing up on ladders to get particularly hard-to-reach volumes, chatting all the time.

"Did you ever tell me what house you want to be in?"

Harry hesitated, then shook his head. "I don't really know. I mean, they all sound good. Dad was in Slytherin, but my real mum and dad were in Gryffindor. Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad either, I guess. They're really smart."

Draco grinned. "As long as it's not Hufflepuff." He stuck his tongue out in mock disgust. "They're all the castoffs, really. That's what Father says, at least."

Harry's heart fell. "I bet that's where I'll be." Draco gave him a strange look. "Castoff. That's all I really am."

All the thoughts came rushing back. _No. No. No. Never good enough. Not ever. Just wait until he sends you off. Freak. Castoff. Good-for-nothing brat._ He sat down roughly, the wood of the bookshelf pressing uncomfortably into his back.

"Harry?" Draco looked concerned. "Why would you be in Hufflepuff? Why are you acting – are you okay?" He quickly ran off.

_Look who else has abandoned you,_ Harry thought nastily.

"Mr. Potter!"

Harry looked up swiftly to see Draco running back towards him, Snape and Lucius close on his heels. Snape fell to his knees in front of the curled-up child.

"_Harry,_" he whispered urgently. The boy snapped for him to leave. Swallowing the pain that gripped his heart, Snape replied, "Harry, look at me. You are safe. I am here, and I will not leave. Not ever."

The boy looked up slowly, veiled hope shining in the tears swimming in his eyes. "Really?"

"Foolish child," Snape murmured. "How many times must I tell you? Yes, I really mean it. Of course I really mean it. You are my life now. Now, please do not cry. Do not waste your tears on such foolish occurrences."

Draco was hiding behind his father, peeking around the man's leg at the scene taking place before him. Lucius shifted awkwardly as Snape pulled Harry to his feet and wrapped him in a hug.

"What do you say we find your books?" Harry nodded and started off. He suddenly turned and sent a nervous glance toward his new friend, who joined him quietly.

"You're – uh – do you want to be in Slytherin with me? It's really cool and the animal is a snake and stuff," Draco stammered, the awkward silence splintering like ice.

Harry gave him a grateful, watery smile. "Yeah. I'd really like that."

* * *

**Sooooo, I really don't know where that little drama came from. And I wanted to split this into two chapters just because of the drama that takes place in the first chapter, but then I didn't because they would be small as all hell.**

**Yes. Anyway, did you like the first chapter? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**My apologies for the update gap. Life seems to be falling to pieces all around me.**

**Regardless, here is Chapter 2.**

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About a Boy – Chapter 2

Snape walked stiffly beside Lucius, cautiously watching Harry run ahead with Draco. Occasionally, the raven-haired boy looked back for reassurance, and Snape gave him a firm nod each time, to which the boy would run forward with a little more enthusiasm, his head held a little higher.

"You're doing a good job with him, Severus," Lucius remarked as they watched the two boys run up to the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Draco was demonstrating how to ride a broom, swooping around on the sidewalk to Harry's delight and amusement.

Quick to change the subject, Snape smirked and offered, "Draco looks like he's having a field day."

"Yes, well, I believe he's in shock. It's not every day you get to meet the celebrity you've heard stories of since you were in diapers," Lucius replied, chuckling. "Perhaps it will keep him from being despised for the Malfoy name."

Snape scowled. "Harry is not _our new celebrity_. He is merely a boy who would have been through too much already if he had only defeated the Dark Lord, not to mention the events that occurred at his relatives' home."

"I know. I know." Lucius raised his hands in an act of innocence. "Speaking of which, I'll have to talk to Draco about everything before school begins."

"Thank you," Snape murmured in a low voice, and the two men moved to join the boys as they ran inside the store.

oOoOo

"And the Keeper's got to be able to move really fast, so he can get to the Quaffle, you know. And he wears all these pads and stuff 'cause he reflects – no _deflects_ – it off his chest and head like _pow, pow, pow!_" Draco mimed using his body to intercept shots.

"Like a soccer goalie!" Harry remarked as he picked up a pair of burgundy padded gloves.

"What's soccer?" Draco asked, his face alight with genuine interest.

Harry attempted to explain the sport before his attention was caught by a small, fluttering flash of gold. He whipped his hand out and closed his thin fingers around a tiny, gold ball with wings.

"What's this?"

Draco turned towards him. "Oh, that's the Snitch. It flies around the pitch super-fast, and the Seeker tries to catch it. Catching the Snitch ends the game and awards the team whose Seeker caught it 150 points. Father says I'll be a Seeker, but based on your ability to catch that Snitch, I'll reckon you'll make a good one too."

Harry smiled in return, but seriously doubted it. He had never been good at anything in his life. Quidditch was surely not going to be any different.

The two boys moved on out of the shop, crossing the alley to be fitted for robes, before standing outside the Apothecary beneath a wooden sign shaped like a cauldron; it swung silently in the light breeze. They waited impatiently for Lucius and Snape, who were certainly taking their sweet time in joining the boys.

Draco was nearly bouncing as they entered, crossing beneath the sign.

"Do not touch anything," Snape drawled, before leading them inside.

The two adults went on to purchase the necessary ingredients while Harry and Draco excitedly examined the contents of each item in the shop, showing off their particularly bizarre or exciting findings to each other with whispers and muffled snickers.

"That's enough, boys," Snape interrupted, already holding open the door. They scampered into the street, unable to hide their smiles when the man added, "Come along. It is time to get your wands."

Harry fell back to his father's side as they walked toward Ollivander's.

"Will it hurt?" he whispered quietly into the Potions Master's cloak.

Snape's head snapped down to peer at the young boy. "It most certainly will not. Mr. Ollivander will hand you a variety of wands to wave and you will find the one that suits you best."

As they entered the shop, Harry – slightly reassured – asked, "Do I get to choose my wand?"

"The wand chooses the wizard, young man," came an eerie voice from behind them. Harry turned around defensively and found that the voice belonged to an aged man with piercing silver eyes. They were cold and appraising, and Harry found himself fighting down an involuntary shiver.

"I suppose that answer suffices," Snape sighed, stepping back with Lucius to leave the two boys in the center of the room with Mr. Ollivander.

The old man looked carefully at Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, I presume, and" – his cold gaze fell on Harry – "ah – Mr. Potter. I wondered when I might be seeing you. I remember when your parents came by for the first time. Your mother had such light in her eyes. You have her eyes, of course, but yet the fire appears to have gone out. Curious. Curious indeed."

Whereas Harry gazed defiantly back at the old man, Snape stiffened considerably. Ollivander glanced up.

"Ah. Severus Snape. Ebony with a core of dragon heartstring, twelve and a half inches, unyielding. Best for combative and ambitious magic. I expect it still works well for you?" His appraising eyes swept up and down Snape's striking figure.

"Of course," Snape answered shortly.

"Of course. Of course," echoed the old man. "Yes, I remember the day you walked in that door with Lily Evans. Willow, ten and one quarter inches – swishy and particularly good for Charms."

"And what wand did my father use? Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Mahogany," Ollivander answered. "Eleven inches exactly. He was particularly proficient in Transfiguration, and his wand aided him there as well."

There was a slight pause in the room before Ollivander turned and began sifting through rows and rows of shelves piled high with thin cardboard boxes. He returned with one cradled between his spidery fingers and stopped in front of Draco.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I remember your parents as well." He glanced up to where Lucius was standing back against the front wall. "Cherry twelve and three quarter inches. Pliable with a core of unicorn hair. A wand with a bit of power behind it. And Narcissa, of course – oak and dragon heartstring, ten inches exactly.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy," – he turned back towards Draco and held out the wand he had been holding – "I believe we will begin with you." As Draco took the wand, he added, "Beech, twelve inches. Whippy."

Draco waved it slightly. When nothing happened, he gave a little sigh and glanced sideways at Harry, who smiled encouragingly back.

Ollivander snatched away the beech wand and handed Draco a new one.

"Dogwood, ten and three-quarter inches, rather bendy."

Once again, nothing happened, and Draco quickly handed the wand back before Ollivander could forcibly remove it from his hands.

"How about ebony, nine and a half inches, particularly flexible?" After a moment, "No, perhaps not."

As Ollivander disappeared back within the dark-wooded shelves, Draco turned to Harry.

"What's supposed to be happening?" Harry whispered.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "He's looking for a wand that chooses me, I guess. There'll be like sparks and stuff – that's how we'll know."

Ollivander returned with a wand already outstretched. Draco took it and waved it confidently, and gold sparks flew from the tip, nearly colliding with Ollivander himself, who jumped out of the way just in time but came up with a somewhat misty smile.

"Fantastic," he murmured, and began wrapping the box in brown paper. "Hawthorn and unicorn hair, ten inches. Considerably springy. An excellent wand, Mr. Malfoy. It will serve you well."

Draco beamed and took the paper-wrapped parcel happily, stepping back to let Harry have his turn.

Harry stepped forward quietly, looking back at Snape for reassurance before reaching out to take his first wand.

"Maple and dragon heartstring. Eight and a half inches."

Harry stood there with wand in hand, feeling rather foolish and not quite knowing what to do.

After a moment, Ollivander cut in, "On with it, boy. Give it a wave."

Harry jumped into action instinctively at the title and waved the wand forcefully. He silently handed the wand back, keeping his eyes low as he accepted the second wand.

"Blackthorn, eleven and three-quarter inches, unyielding."

Harry waved the wand easily, watching for sparks. None came, and he quickly found the wand taken from his hand.

"No? Perhaps 'unyielding' doesn't quite fit you, although" – he handed Harry another dark-wooded wand – "no, not that one either."

He continued through a long line of wands of various woods, lengths, and flexibilities. Each box stacked upon the spindly chair in the corner was another weight in Harry's heart, reminding him that maybe, in fact, he was not cut out to be a wizard, regardless of what everyone told him. Even the wands didn't like him.

Mr. Ollivander, on the other hand, seemed to grow more and more excited with each box balanced on the pile.

"No worries, Mr. Potter," he bit out excitedly. "We'll soon find a wand that fits you. Try this – walnut, eleven inches, nice and rigid – no, I thought not." He threw the box toward the already-teetering pile, and several slid off the chair with a clatter.

Ollivander grew uncharacteristically quiet as he pulled one long box from the shelf.

"Perhaps – " He trailed off as he set the wand in a curious Harry's hand. Harry inspected the wand subtly, but found no obvious abnormalities with it. "Holly and phoenix feather – not a combination you get every day – eleven and a half inches. Reasonably supple."

Harry felt a smile flutter onto his face at the warmth that was beginning to creep up his arm. This was the one. He knew it.

He waved the holly wand slightly, and felt immensely overjoyed and relieved as the telltale sparks shot from the end of his wand.

Ollivander merely murmured, "Curious, how very curious," before taking the wand from Harry's hand and beginning to package it up.

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry cut in quietly, looking at the old wandmaker in interest. "What is so curious about my wand?" He glanced back and saw the two Malfoys and Snape smiling at him. Snape moved forward to pay for the wand, taking the package from Ollivander, who gazed after it as Snape shrunk it and placed it in his cloak pocket.

"Curious that such a wand should choose you," Ollivander replied, still staring at Snape's pocket. "The phoenix whose feather is contained in the core of your wand only produced two feathers. The other I sold long ago, to a boy who you remind me much of yourself."

"What boy?"

"The brother of your wand – the wand with which yours shares a core – is not one I am happy to have sold. Yew. Thirteen and a quarter inches. And it unfortunately fell into the hands of the man who gave you that scar, Mr. Potter."

Harry's hand flew to his forehead, feeling the slightly-raised outline of the lightning bolt-shaped scar there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape stiffen abruptly, his smile frozen on his face.

"I do not believe that is a story for such a time or place," Snape cut in, his voice as cold as the winter wind. "We will be leaving now. Thank you for your time, Mr. Ollivander." The Potions Master ushered them all out the door after his words, keeping a firm hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry looked up to ask a question, but Snape stopped him before he got the chance.

"Now is not the time for questions, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked at his feet and walked quietly down the street beside Draco until they reached Eeylops Owl Emporium, where a symphony of squawking fell upon his ears.

"What is this?" he cried, raising his hands to his ears. He let them fall back to his side as they entered – it was much quieter.

"You'll need a pet this year, Mr. Potter. First years are allowed an owl, a cat, or a toad. Toads are far too easy to lose, and I do not have a fancy for cats, so perhaps you should get an owl. Choose wisely," Snape instructed.

Harry inspected the birds in each cage with interest. Before today, he had never seen a real owl, much less been this close to one – and now he was going to own one. He couldn't keep the grin off his face. Draco gave his opinion on each one, informing Harry that he already had his own bird back at Malfoy Manor.

Harry figured Draco and his father must be very rich to have a manor named after them. They weren't nearly as snobbish as the rich people Uncle Vernon associated with, and for that he was grateful, but still Rich people always had ways of getting what they wanted. They couldn't be trusted. But then again, _people_ couldn't be trusted.

Creeping between each cage so as not to be the cause of any more screeching, Harry set his eyes on him. He was a tawny owl with a white face, piercing yellow eyes, and feathers smooth as silk. And Harry had to have him.

He tugged lightly on Snape's cloak.

"Sir?"

Snape turned quickly from his conversation with Draco's father. "Yes?" he prompted.

Harry nodded toward the owl.

"Is that the one you want? Are you sure?" Snape looked into the cage before looking back down at Harry. "Very well," he added as Harry nodded vigorously.

oOoOo

"Owls are a bit boring if you want something for good company, but they're real useful," Draco was explaining as the group headed back toward the Leaky Cauldron for lunch and their departure. "They'll take your letters all over the world for you, but they get real nippy sometimes. See, I have a scar here." He held out his right hand, where a silvery scar stood out against the pale skin of his pointer finger. "Mother said she could heal it, set it right back to how it was, but I don't really mind much. Besides, who else can say their owl nearly took off part of their finger?" Draco grinned childishly at the idea and peered down at the first knuckle of his finger again, running his thumb over the scar there.

Harry shifted the owl cage into his right hand and held up his left for inspection. "I probably have one to match." He spotted the thin line that curved across the back of his left thumb. "Yeah, right here. Uncle – my uncle, he had a party for a few work friends. Someone dropped a beer, and it fell to me to clean it up. It sliced my finger right up."

Of course, that wasn't exactly true, but most aspects of his home life were meant to be kept hidden. Fragmented snapshots of broken glass and blood swept across his vision, of deep cuts and Uncle Vernon's taunting voice cackling, 'Let's see if freaks bleed'.

Harry quickly shook his head to be rid of the memory before he began to hyperventilate. He found Draco inspecting the scar, skimming over the many others – for which Harry was very grateful.

"Beer?" Draco asked in confusion, releasing Harry's hand. "Like butterbeer?"

"What's butterbeer?"

"Only the best thing ever!" Draco crowed, before turning to call to Lucius, "Father, Harry's never had butterbeer! Can we get some? Please? Please? I promise I'll be good! I'll even help Dobby make dinner! Please?"

"That won't be necessary," Lucius chuckled. "Come along, Harry. The little demon beside you won't rest until he's gotten his way."

They all settled down at a booth in the back corner of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom the bartender bustled over with their drinks and Draco all but poured the frothy gold liquid down Harry's throat. Regardless, Harry quickly found himself drinking more deeply as the butterscotch-flavored liquid spread warmth from his stomach to the very tips of his toes.

He grinned. "It's brilliant!"

"So, Mr. Potter," Snape began, clearing his throat quietly, "have you decided what you will be naming your owl?"

Harry glanced down from the table to where the tawny owl sat with his head tucked under its wing. In fact, it had been something that Harry had been giving quite a bit of thought to on the way over, and he reckoned he had finally reached a conclusion.

"Well, I don't really want him to have some common name like Frank or Louis, so I was really thinking about it on the way here. I think I've decided on a name: Anthony. I know it's a bit of a common name as well, but he's the –"

"The patron saint of lost things," Snape finished, and Harry nodded, falling silent for a moment. "Very fitting, Mr. Potter."

"Because there's a lot of things that are lost about me," Harry concluded.

And there were. He had lost his family, his home, and his childhood. He had lost every friend and everything he had ever cared about. And above all, he had lost the most important thing: himself.

But then again, he had found Snape and maybe, just maybe, he was starting to find pieces of himself again.

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**Want to let me know what you thought? :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello. Thank you once again for all the wonderful reviews. I apologize for not responding to all of you, but recently I just haven't had the time. However, I promise you that I do read each and every one of them, and they mean the world to me. I will try to respond to you all at some point, just not right this moment.**

**Enjoy Chapter 3!**

**Oh - the Sorting Hat's song is taken directly from p. 117-118 of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_.**

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About a Boy – Chapter 3

Harry tightened his grip on the trolley as Snape guided him through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. They pushed through the crowded platform until they reached the train.

Snape settled him into a compartment before leaving, and Harry felt the cool metal of the gold Galleons his father had given him begin to heat and grow slippery beneath his fingers. He quickly transferred them to the pocket of his jeans, wiping his palm on his trouser leg before pulling up the blinds to peer out the window at the other families quietly saying good-bye to their children.

"Nervous?" came an excited voice from behind him. He turned and found Draco standing at the entrance to the compartment, a large trunk behind him.

"Nervous doesn't cut it," Harry answered truthfully as he stood to help Draco move his trunk onto the racks above the seats.

"Aw, come on! It won't be that bad!"

"For you," he muttered, looking at his hands. "What if I'm not magical enough?"

"Not possible," Draco sang, taking a seat across from Harry. "You got a wand, didn't you?"

Harry pulled the Holly wand from his trunk. "Yeah…"

"So you're magical enough!"

Harry grumbled and put his wand away, brightening slightly. He looked up as Draco began pulling the blinds down again.

"Come on, let's change into our robes. I can't stand these Muggle things." He pulled his green jumper away from his chest in a disgusted manner. "Besides, Father got me these cool new robes. Look! They look just like the school robes but the fastenings are snakes! I'll still have to change before Hogwarts, mind you, but they're still cool." He held out the clothing for Harry's inspection. Harry nodded and pulled out his own robes.

Harry quickly peeled off his jumper and threw it in his trunk. At Draco's loud gasp, he froze.

"H-Harry, your back!" Draco choked. "Your scars! Father mentioned, but – that bad…" He trailed off.

"Shit." Harry flushed scarlet and hastened to pull on his robes. Once his clothes were properly buttoned, he turned to Draco, who still looked pale and shocked, halfway through pulling on his own robes. "If you'll help me pull down my trunk, I'll go."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"You want me to leave, don't you? I'm disgusting and weak and –" He fumbled for words before choking out, "– and a _freak!_" He spat the last word, falling back into the chair with his head in his hands.

"I don't think you're any of those things, Harry," Draco stammered, looking at his hands to avoid the distressed look on Harry's face. "And if you don't mind, I'd rather you stayed."

Harry met his gaze evenly across the compartment. "You don't know what you're talking about. You have no idea who I am, what's happened to me."

"You're right," Draco responded, his eyes darting to the closed blinds and back to Harry. "But the thing is, I don't care. I don't care what's happened to you. I don't care who you think you are. To me, you're just Harry. You're just the boy who I ran around Diagon Alley with two weeks ago, and I like that boy. I like my new friend a lot." The corners of his lips twitched up into a crooked smirk.

Harry tentatively smiled back, letting out a deep sigh of relief. "Thanks, Draco."

Draco grinned and turned to pull the blinds back up before settling back down into his seat for the long ride ahead.

The compartment door slid open and bounced back with a bang, nearly hitting the two children standing in the doorway. Harry jumped at the noise, but otherwise kept silent, silently observing.

A bushy-haired little girl stepped forward, leaving a freckled redhead behind her in the doorway.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Ron Weasley. Do you mind if we take a seat in here with you? All the other compartments are full and, well, some of the older students are throwing a few spells around in the hallways a bit farther down." She sounded a bit out of breath, as if she had just run from all those spell-throwing students. Turning back toward the redhead – _Ron_, she asked if the compartment was agreeable in his sight.

Ron shook his head back and forth rapidly, his cheeks and ears beginning to turn a gentle shade of red. "Not this compartment, Hermione," he stammered, his gaze flickering between the two boys seated before him.

Hermione looked mildly annoyed. "This is our only option. What's wrong with this compartment?"

Ron fumbled for words for a moment before spitting, "I will _not_ sit with a _Malfoy_."

"Oh, come off it, Weasley, you make it sound as if I want to sit with you!" Draco shot back, scowling slightly.

Ron looked Draco up and down, before settling on the silver snake fastenings of his robes. "_Snakes_ for fastenings," he scoffed, disgust creeping into his voice. "Suits you, Malfoy. You and your slimy father. You'll have to change those robes, you know. They're not appropriate for school."

Draco stood up, his pointed face twisting a little in his anger. "Don't you talk about my father like that! And yeah, I will change these robes. That's more than you can do, isn't it? I bet you'd love to change out of _those_ threadbare hand-me-downs."

"I wouldn't want _those_ robes. I'd take these over them any day."

Harry stood up fiercely, and slipped between Draco and Ron. "_I_ like them."

Ron gasped. "_You're –_" He reached out one hand towards Harry's forehead.

Harry flinched back violently, falling backward into Draco, who held him up.

Ron looked shocked.

Hermione quickly stepped in, breaking them all up, pushing Harry and Draco toward the window and Ron toward the door.

"All of you, settle down. You two" – she pointed to Draco and Ron – "get over yourselves. This is the only compartment available, and we're going to sit here whether you like it or not."

Ron settled down into the seat farthest from Draco, Hermione beside him, while Harry and Draco took the seats opposite from them.

After a few moments of tense conversation, a quiet rattling approached, revealing a kind, elderly woman with a trolley piled high with every type of sweet imaginable.

"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked, oblivious to the tension in the room, or perhaps trying to dissolve it.

"Nothing for me, thanks," Ron replied, grimacing, holding up a wrapped sandwich.

Ignoring Hermione's murmur of "Mum and Dad would kill me," Harry and Draco stepped forward, digging gold galleons from the pockets of their robes and holding them out.

"Some of everything, please," Harry asked politely, discreetly elbowing Draco back. He had never had anything to share with anyone before, and Draco wasn't going to ruin this for him (not that he really would have minded _that_ much).

"We'll split the cost," Draco insisted as Harry dumped a large pile of sweets on top of one of the trunks, which had been dragged down to act in place of a table.

The tension eased up quickly then, as the four eleven-year-olds dug into the sizeable pile of sweets before them. Hermione held back and Ron, his face smeared with chocolate, poked her in the side.

"C'mon, 'Mione," he urged around a mouthful of chocolate frog, "why aren't you eating?"

"My parents are dentists," she replied, as if that answered the question. Harry grimaced in understanding, both of them oblivious to the look of confusion of the other two's faces.

"What the hell are dentists?" Ron asked, wiping chocolate-smudged fingers on his robes and one hand across his mouth. Draco nodded in agreement.

"They keep your teeth healthy. I'm not supposed to have sweets like this. They rot your teeth!" Hermione replied.

Draco and Ron exchanged a horrified look. "And what happens when your teeth rot?"

"Well, you get cavities, which are essentially holes where your teeth have rotted away. Then dentists – like my parents – have to go in and drill down into your teeth to eliminate all the decay. After they've drilled down into your teeth, they fill in the hole with one of several different things, usually metals such as gold, silver, cobalt, nickel, or mercury. Sometimes, a cavity is so bad, they have to take a mold of the tooth and then drill the tooth down until it is very small so they can fit a crown – a fake mold of the tooth – over it," Hermione explained.

Harry hid his grin as Draco choked out, "That's barbaric!"

Hermione smiled as the boys hastily pushed the sweets towards the middle of the trunk, away from them.

Harry reached forward for a pumpkin pasty, ignoring Ron and Draco's horrified expressions.

"Don't do it, Harry!" Ron squeaked, blue eyes wide.

"They'll drill your teeth away!" Draco added, his own pale grey eyes following Harry's movements as the raven-haired boy put the small dessert to his mouth.

oOoOo

By the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into the dark station at Hogsmeade, both Draco and Ron had gotten over their aversion to sweets, though not quite their fear of dentists.

As they got off the train, they found themselves herded over by a huge man in a furry coat.

"I've dreamed about him!" Harry gasped, and all three of his new friends looked at him in surprise.

"About Hagrid?" Ron asked in confusion, but was cut off by the big man himself.

"How are yeh, you four?" the man – Hagrid – asked gruffly, clapping one hand roughly on Draco's back and making the boy cough. "Merlin, how yeh've grown, Harry. Haven't seen yeh since yeh was this big!" He held his hands out to indicate the size of Harry as a baby, before turning toward the others in the group. "Yeh must be a Malfoy; I remember yer father. And ah, yeh must be Ron Weasley; hope yeh don't end up much like yer brothers – yeh'll never get out of detention. And" – he turned towards Hermione – "what's your name?"

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione piped up, looking up at the half-giant in front of her.

"Welcome ter Hogwarts, all of yeh. Now come on, I've got ter get yeh to the castle."

Hagrid led them and the rest of the first years to a fleet of boats on the lake. The four of them clambered into one, Harry inching toward the center of the small wooden craft apprehensively. As the boats set off across the black water, Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and looked around himself in interest and trepidation.

As they passed beneath an outcropping of rock, Hermione let her fingers trail in the dark water flowing beneath the boat. Harry heard her faintly murmur, "'For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), / It's always ourself we find in the sea.'"

"What was that, Hermione?" he whispered, moving closer to her nervously.

She looked up suddenly and smiled at him shyly. "It's a bit of poetry by E.E. Cummings, a Muggle writer. One of my favorites, actually."

He grinned back. "I like it."

Hagrid's voice suddenly boomed from several boats ahead. "Up and around this here corner, yeh'll get yer first view of the castle."

And then they came around the corner. The castle, looming and magnificent, stood up above the lake, the windows alight, several large towers reaching toward the sky. The sharp lines of the roof seemed to blend into the black, starry sky above it, making it seem endless and surreal.

Many of the students gasped as the awe-inspiring sight. Harry instantly found himself wondering why he had never been outside of the castle. Well, sure – he had been outside of the castle, but he had never been in a position to look at the school before. This was beautiful.

Ron was too busy leaning over the side of the boat and peering into the black water to spare a glance to the impressive castle. He leaned farther, eyebrows inching across his pale forehead and furrowing his brow.

"Ron, what are you looking at?" Harry asked quietly, torn between looking into the lake as well and keeping a safe distance from the water.

"Fred and George – my brothers, you know – they kept talking about the Giant Squid. I'm trying to see him. They reckon they've seen him dozens of times. Come to think of it, they were probably just messing with me," Ron concluded, looking up from over the side of the boat and finally observing the castle. "Whoa." He was instantly mesmerized as well.

The small boats stopped themselves on the shore, and the first years all climbed out. Hagrid quickly began leading them up a steep, rocky path toward the castle. As they approached the tall, wooden doors of the castle, Harry quickly found the apprehension rising in his chest again. What house would he be sorted in? Would it hurt? What if he _was_ in Hufflepuff?

Hagrid left them at the front doors of the castle. "This is where I leave yeh. Good luck!" He flashed a friendly grin and walked off into the darkness.

The children around him began muttering quietly amongst themselves until the front doors opened to reveal a tall, stern-looking woman standing in the entrance hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor McGonagall. Please follow me."

She led them across the entrance hall to a set of large double doors, where the group was stopped again.

"We are about to enter the Great Hall. Once inside, you will all be sorted into your Houses before joining them to take part in the start-of-term feast. The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now, each House has its good points and bad points, and each has a unique history. This House will become somewhat of a family to you, a home away from home. You will do everything from attend classes together to sleep in the same dormitory with your Housemates.

"You will quickly find that Howarts operates on a points system. When you do something well, you will earn points for your House. However, when you misbehave, you will quickly find points taken away. The House with the most points at the end of the year is awarded the House Cup. Good luck."

Once the lecture had been given, Professor McGonagall quickly opened the doors to the Great Hall and led them inside. Harry whipped his head back and forth, trying to take in everything at once. Four long tables were placed in the hall, which Harry assumed were for each table to dine together at. Torches lined the stone walls and candles floated in the air, filling the room with a soft yet adequate light. Harry looked up in awe at the ceiling, which was a perfect replica of the night sky outside.

"It's charmed to reflect the actual state of the sky," Hermione whispered excitedly in his ear. "That's the actual sky we're seeing!"

Harry let his eyes wander up to the Head Table, where he knew Snape would be. Sure enough, the man was sitting beside a man with a strange purple turban, eating his steak in silence. Snape met his eyes and smirked as Harry's face split into a wide grin.

His gaze finally rested on a well-worn, floppy hat sitting on a stool.

"What's that?" came a small voice from behind them.

Suddenly, the floppy opened its brim and began to sing:

"_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart;_

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil;_

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!"*_

Harry and Draco exchanged incredulous glances.

"It sings?" the platinum-haired boy deadpanned, and Harry and several others snickered beside him.

Their laughter was quickly stifled when Professor McGonagall looked down disapprovingly and read out the first name.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

Hannah Abott was a blonde-haired girl who – after sitting on the stool with the hat on her head for a moment – became the first Hufflepuff, and Harry watched her intently as she scampered off to join her new House at their table on the far right. She didn't seem much like a castoff.

Harry paid strict attention as Professor McGonagall read down a long list of names. He watched as Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor after a long time on the stool and Draco was sent to Slytherin immediately after the hat touched his hat.

Finally Professor McGonagall called out, "Potter, Harry!"

Harry pushed through the dwindling crowd of first year students around him and quickly crossed the short distance to the stool, amidst the sudden conversation of every student in the hall. He glanced quickly toward Hermione and Draco before taking a seat on the stool and pulling the hat down onto his head. It fell over his glasses, quickly limiting his vision to the dark fabric of the inner lining of the Sorting Hat.

A low voice was suddenly buzzing in his head.

"Well, well, what do you we have here?" the Sorting Hat murmured in his ear. "You've been through a lot, young man; you most certainly have."

"Shut up," Harry muttered back, closing his eyes.

"Very well. You're a difficult one to place. An eagerness to learn – Ravenclaw, for sure. An undeniable and uncrossable bravery – certainly Gryffindor. A thirst to prove yourself and be like your father figure – Slytherin, of course. Ah, I rarely find one so fiercely loyal. What do you say to Hufflepuff?"

Harry nearly jumped off the chair and ran out the door. He felt the beginnings of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He was a castoff, after all.

"No, no. Please not Hufflepuff. Please, please not Hufflepuff." He repeated his mantra over and over, until the Sorting Hat cut in once again.

"Are you sure? Well then, you present such a difficult decision. You would do well in each of the four Houses. And of course, you've refused Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw would suit you well, but you have an unconscious desire to be with your friends, of course, which leaves us with Gryffindor and Slytherin.

"Gryffindor would surely be a good House for you. Bravery such as yours is rarely found in children your age. Of course, considering what you've been through. . . And you are just as stubborn and unshakable in your decisions. And what a moral compass, what a sense of right and wrong. But of course, you would be willing to ignore that for the sake of your friends. That's Hufflepuff again, however."

Gryffindor? He could be with Hermione. That wouldn't be so bad. And besides, hadn't Snape mentioned that both of his parents had been in Gryffindor. But the man himself had been in Slytherin. . . Harry had a sinking feeling that he had been on the stool the longest, and the Hat still hadn't reached a decision. What if it just sent him out the door and made him get back on the train? What if it couldn't decide and came to the conclusion that he wasn't good enough for any of the Houses?

"Oh, don't worry. We'll find a House for you. Of course, there's Slytherin, which you would do very well in. You have such a thirst to prove yourself – to be somebody – to be _important_. And your father figure – he was in Slytherin, was he not? You want to be with him, to be just like him. You don't want to disappoint him.

"So take your pick, Harry Potter. You've eliminated Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. You are suited for either Gryffindor or Slytherin. So which do you choose?"

Harry sat for a few moments, debating. Really, Gryffindor sounded like the better house – what with its bravery, nerve, and chivalry. But then, there was Slytherin, for the students who wanted to prove themselves. He certainly wanted to do that, and of course Snape and Draco – his father and his first best friend – were in Slytherin.

And when it came down to it, that was the deciding factor.

"I want to be in Slytherin," Harry answered quietly, leaving his reasons out of his answer.

"Yes, of course. Nothing can ever come between the love of a father and a son. Better be – _Slytherin!_" And with those words, the hat shouted its decision to the rest of the hall.

Silence. That was the only thing Harry heard as he removed the hat and peered anxiously around the hall at the students staring wide-eyed up at him. He hopped off the stool, toeing the ground nervously before searching the Slytherin table for Draco's familiar face. When he found it, he silently begged the boy to accept him.

Draco stood up without hesitation, and without breaking eye contact, cheered loudly. It broke the silence effectively – conversations broke out in every corner of the room, and Harry heard the whispers pressing in on all sides as he left the hat behind him on the stool and made his way to the Slytherin house table. He took a seat beside Draco, who smiled and started an unimportant conversation to take his mind off the reaction of the school.

When it came down to it, the boy really was a wonderful friend.

Harry and Draco watched in joint amusement as Ron nearly tripped on his way to the Gryffindor table before digging into the huge feast before them.

He could deal with this. He really could.

But in the back of his mind, he couldn't quite shake the little voice that reminded him that he was supposed to be in Hufflepuff. He was really meant to be a castoff.

* * *

*Once again, the Sorting Hat's song is taken directly from p. 117-118 of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone._

**Please leave a review to tell me what you think. And there, that is your reasoning for Harry being in Slytherin. Some of you had already guessed it. ;) But really, when it comes down to it, it's all about opinions and influences - those are what end up becoming the reasons for many of our decisions in our lives. And besides, if Harry hadn't met Draco at Madam Malkin's or perhaps sat with Ron on the train, he most likely would have ended up in Slytherin. O.o**

**Thanks again!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ooooh, Harry's first day of classes!**

**Also, I am going on a week-long trip next week, so PROBABLY don't expect an update until some time after the 7th. You never know, though. It depends on whether or not it's possible to update from my phone. :o**

* * *

About a Boy – Chapter 4

The next morning, Harry took a seat beside Draco at breakfast, piling food up onto his plate as if it were to be the only meal of the deal. Draco took notice of this and choked back a laugh, shoveling his own breakfast down his throat.

Halfway through their meal, they found a large shadow looming over them. Harry glanced up and found Snape staring down at him, a disapproving frown plastered on his stern face.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," he greeted sharply, finally looking away from Harry when the boy slowed down his eating to a more respectable pace. Snape pulled out his wand and tapped it against two crisp pieces of parchment. Ink bled from the tip of his wand to form words on the page. Snape handed them the papers, stowing his wand within his sleeve. "These are your timetables. Do make an effort to be on time to class." With those words, he moved on to the next group of students seated at the Slytherin table.

Harry and Draco looked down at their schedules excitedly.

"Look! We've got all our classes with the Gryffindors! We'll be with Hermione and Ron!" Harry pointed out happily. Draco scowled at the mention of the youngest male Weasley, but remained silent.

"Double Potions first thing this morning," Draco murmured, a teasing note present in his smooth tone. "If you blow up a potion after a year with Uncle Sev" – Snape passed by and shot him a pointed look – "I mean, _Professor Snape_, I'll never let you live it down!"

oOoOo

Harry showed up to Potions early – his book clutched in his arms – and pushed the door open with his shoulder. He found Snape seated at the desk, looking over several papers.

"Yes?" Snape asked, slowly tearing his eyes from the page. "Good morning, Harry. Did you sleep well in the dormitories last night?"

Harry toed the stone floor, setting his book on one of the black work tables and dropping his bookbag at the base of the chair.

"Not really," he answered truthfully. "It's the first time I've ever really been away from you overnight, and I-I couldn't sleep."

"Harry, why didn't you come down to my quarters? The door is always open to you, not to mention the fact that I am in need of a child to occupy a certain extra bedroom every once in a while." Harry nodded, grinning, and Snape continued, "It is necessary for you to stay in your dormitory with the rest of your classmates, but I believe it can be arranged for you to stay with me one or two nights a week. I am your Head of House, after all." A small smirk crossed the Potions Master's face, but quickly faded when he looked around and noted the absence of a certain blond Slytherin. "Where is Draco?"

Harry sat down in the chair at his worktable and replied, "Oh, he just went back to get his book. His trunk was so disorganized that he couldn't find it! He lost his textbook in his own trunk!" Harry's quiet laugh permeated the quiet of the classroom.

Suddenly, the door banged open. "That's not true!" Draco protested indignantly. "I didn't lose my book; I just temporarily forgot where I placed it!"

"Because it was buried under loads of fancy robes and old socks!"

"Regardless," Snape's voice cut in silkily, "I trust that you have your book now?"

"Of course!" Draco pulled his book from his back and set it on the table, taking a seat beside Harry.

Snape exited the classroom quickly and unnoticeably as the rest of the students filed in and took places at the rest of the tables. Harry distinctly heard the mutterings about him and stared at the blackboard before him, jaw clenched, as Hermione and Ron took the table to the left of him.

The door to Snape's office snapped open, hitting the stone wall with a bang and bouncing back, effectively scaring the students half out of their wits. A small Gryffindor girl in the back of the classroom muffled a scream, and several Slytherins snickered.

Snape smirked wickedly and let his eyes scan the classroom. Harry felt nervousness gently wrap its thin fingers around the base of his spine and fought back a shiver. He had never seen the man quite like this before.

With a wave of his wand, a sheet of paper flew to Snape's thin fingers, and he began to take roll call. With the way Snape had talked about him in public in Diagon Alley, Harry had already been expecting a negative comment when the man reached his name, but he was wrong; Snape merely called the name and continued, his jaw clenching briefly at the whispers that floated up at the name of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Once finished, Snape looked up and began to speak again. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Harry ducked his head at the last comment, biting back a giggle. Snape, of course, noticed.

"And just what do you find so funny, _Potter_?" the Potions Master spat, and Harry shuddered at the contempt in the man's voice. He knew it was an act, but it all sounded so real.

"Nothing, sir," Harry mumbled, staring at his hands.

"If Potions is such a joke to you, then why don't you tell me what I would get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's eyes shot up to meet his father's. That was one of the first questions he had asked about potion-making, one of the first things he had ever learned.

After a brief moment of silence – in which Snape sneered horribly at him, Harry answered, "The Draught of Living Death, sir, which is one of the most powerful sleeping potions in existence."

The man's face twisted into a scowl. "Surely – since our precious celebrity knows so much – you can tell me where a bezoar is found?"

Harry had a brief flashback of a younger him standing at Snape's desk, holding a small, shriveled stone in his hand while Snape quietly explained the function and location of a bezoar.

_Snape was asking questions he was aware Harry knew the answers to._

"In the stomach of a goat, sir."

"And what is it useful for?" Snape snapped irritably.

"It counteracts most poisons, sir," Harry answered quietly, looking to where Hermione was sitting with her hand straight up toward the ceiling.

"Well, if you truly have opened your book before your arrival, you will be able to tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane."

Harry answered without hesitation. "Of course, sir. They are the same plant - also known as aconite - and highly toxic, Professor."

Snape looked furious for several moments before his face smoothed out, but that was all it took for Harry to shrink back into his chair, tears beginning to prickle at the back of his eyes. A hand grabbed his forearm gently, and Harry looked up, startled, to find Draco looking at him in concern.

"He doesn't mean it, Harry. You know that." The boy offered a reassuring smile, and Harry relaxed a bit, focusing his eyes back on the front of the classroom.

Harry was relieved when Snape finally set them to the task of brewing a Boil Cure Potion, one which Harry had brewed many times. He and Draco worked together on it, the latter unable to contain his excitement at his first attempt at brewing.

"Calm down," Harry whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "Dad always says that emotions and potions brew nothing but disaster."

Draco took a deep breath before running off to collect the ingredients. Harry heated the cauldron and waited for Draco return with the necessary items. Upon the boy's arrival, he began crushing the snake fangs into a fine powder. As he handed the crushed snake fangs to Draco to pour into the cauldron, Snape arrived, passing neatly over Harry and taking the ingredient from the blond boy's hand.

"An excellent example of perfectly crushed snake fangs," Snape announced to the class, holding the powder up for all to see. "Ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy." Snape's eyes connected with Harry's and for one moment, the familiar warmth was in them, but it was gone before he could say something.

At the end of the class, Harry and Draco had managed to brew what was – in their opinion – the finest Boil Cure Potion in all of magical Britain. They set the blue potion on Snape's desk proudly before returning to their worktable to clean up.

"A moment, if you would, Potter," Snape called as they moved to leave.

Draco smiled and walked out of the classroom. "I'll see you in Transfiguration, Harry."

As soon as he was gone, Harry threw himself into Snape's arms, suddenly finding it difficult to hold back tears. The man caught him easily and pulled him to his chest.

"I can't do it, Dad. I can't do this – it's too hard. It all seemed so real – everything you said – and you seemed so angry with me," Harry whispered quietly into his father's chest, and felt Snape's arms tighten instinctively around him.

"I'm sorry, child. I'm so sorry for that. It's all to keep you safe – to keep us both safe – I promise. I know you knew the answers to those questions, and of course I knew that you were the one to crush those snake fangs – I watched you. And they were excellent, I assure you – I have not seen finer crushed snake fangs anywhere," Snape murmured, and Harry snorted indelicately. "But of course, I could not give points to you, not when I had been criticizing you all morning."

"And the potion?"

"Full marks, of course. I would expect nothing less from the son of a Potions Master."

oOoOo

When Harry rejoined Draco in McGonagall's class, he nudged the blond boy, who was watching the professor transform herself into a cat and perch on the corner of her desk.

"Full marks for our potion."

Draco grinned widely, turning away from the demonstration to look at Harry. "Knew it. We're brilliant. Potions Master Draco Malfoy and his assistant, the bespectacled Harry Potter!" He gestured to the boy beside him. Harry merely scoffed and pulled out a piece of parchment to take notes on. "You're taking _notes_? Should I say my _boring_ assistant?"

Harry scoffed and inked his quill as McGonagall began talking about changing a toothpick into a needle, trying to ignore Draco for the time being.

"Well, then how about my _note-taking_ assistant?"

"Shut up, Draco. I'm serious." Harry's voice held a low warning as he focused his eyes on the parchment before him, noting the wand movement and incantation for the spell.

"Hey, are you okay?" Draco's voice took on a genuinely concerned tone. "Professor Snape didn't get to you, did he? You know he's not really like that."

"I'm fine," Harry replied, rubbing his face wearily. "I'm just a little tired. This is a lot to take in."

"It gets easier as you go. Father says the first few weeks are always the hardest because you have to get used to channeling your magic through your wand. Let's try the spell though. Maybe we'll be prodigies – just like in Potions!"

Harry half-smiled and pointed his wand at the slender toothpick on the desk before him.

"_Ligneum acu._"

Nothing happened.

He repeated the spell several times, only to receive the same result. After a while, Harry flopped back into to seat and watched Draco attempt the magic fruitlessly as well. He peeked sideways at Hermione to find her hair slightly frizzier than normal as she waved her wand; her toothpick lengthened and sharpened slightly.

Sighing, Harry stood again and tried the incantation once more. Once again, his toothpick stayed dull and wooden, and the boy groaned in defeat.

McGonagall's voice traveled from the front of the classroom. "Remember, focus on your magic moving down your arm, through your wand, and into the toothpick. Focus on transfiguring the toothpick to a needle!"

Harry focused, imagining he was seeing his magic pulse down his arm and through his wand.

"_Ligneum acu!_"

The toothpick turned a shiny shade of silver. Harry couldn't keep the grin off his face as he picked up the partially-transfigured item, examining it closely.

Draco looked jealous. "Hey, how'd you do that?"

"Magic, Draco," Harry answered bluntly, waving his wand in the air. Silver sparks flew from the end and rained down on them.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, rushing over to them. "Is everything all right?" She caught sight of his shiny, silver toothpick and held it up for all to see. "Oh, excellent! Excellent! And Miss Granger! You two are nearly there!" She showed off Hermione's toothpick; it was pointy and silver but had a strange wooden grain to it. The professor smiled at the two of them as she handed them their toothpicks again.

Harry grinned back genuinely and set back to practicing, giving Draco small pointers here and there to help.

oOoOo

History of Magic and Herbology passed quickly and without incident. Before they knew it, Harry and Draco found themselves sitting at the Slytherin table for dinner, piling large helpings of roast beef on their plates.

Draco began shoveling his dinner into his mouth as Anthony through the window and landed in front of Harry. He stroked the tawny owl lightly as he detached the tightly-furled bit of parchment attached to its foot. After nibbling on a piece of carrot from Harry's plate, it flew off, heading back to the Owlery.

Harry started on his dinner, opening the letter and scanning the familiar script.

_ If you are free, would you kindly come to my quarters tonight after dinner? I would like to hear about your first day of classes._

It was unsigned, but Harry would recognize the slanting hand and formal diction anywhere. He grinned to himself before continuing to eat.

oOoOo

The evening found Harry seated on his father's couch with his knees to his chest and a cup of tea in his hand.

"Aside from my class, how were your others? I believe you had Transfiguration immediately after?"

Harry nodded excitedly. "Yeah, and me and Hermione – "

" – Hermione and I – " Snape interrupted smoothly.

"Right. Hermione and I were the only ones who came close to transfiguring our toothpicks into needles! Mine was all silvery! It wasn't really pointy, but still!" Harry babbled.

An amused smirk found its way onto Snape's face. "Excellent job, Harry. I still expect you to practice until you have mastered the spell."

Harry nodded, nearly bouncing in his happiness. "Yeah, 'course. So then in Herbology we learned about these new plants and they strangle you if you come too close! I can't remember what it's called though. . . ."

"Devil's Snare," Snape supplied helpfully.

"Yeah, that's it!" Harry continued, undeterred. "But it really doesn't like sunlight, so if you ever get caught by it – "

"Hope that you don't."

"Yeah, but if I _did_, all I would have to do is use sunlight to get away! Professor Sprout wouldn't show it to us though – only pictures; she said it was too dangerous."

"Yes, tell me, Harry – do you know how to produce sunlight?"

"Well, no."

"And that would be why Professor Sprout kept you away. Besides, that plant is too dangerous for first years to be trusted with," the man finished. Harry scowled briefly before brightening again.

"And – did you know – Professor Binns is a _ghost!_" the boy exclaimed.

"So I've been told, child," Snape replied, smiling at his son.

"And he told us all about goblins and how they fought in these wars! It was awesome!"

"I take it you enjoyed your first day at Hogwarts, Harry?" Snape pressed his lips together in amusement.

"Yeah! It was so cool! It's magical!" Silence prevailed for a few moments before Harry snorted and added, "Literally."

Snape rolled his eyes before glancing toward the clock and standing up from his seat in the armchair.

"Alright, child. It is nearly curfew, and I do not wish for you to be caught out on your first day. To bed with you!"

Harry threw himself at the man and embraced him in a tight hug before running out the door, calling "Good night, Dad!" over his shoulder as he went.

* * *

**Snape's speech is taken directly from p. 136-137 of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. It's just too good to cut out! :D**

**Review with how you liked it? Suggest ideas? I've got some key points solidified, but who knows - if I like an idea, I just might put it in! ;)**


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